Sometimes, Theon worried that he was too feminine for his own good.
It was strange, having a man escort him through the practice yard – supposedly for his safety, although he suspected ulterior motives. The humidity in the air had set his stump into a dull ache, making him more reliant on his cane and further pronouncing his limp, but it was his gender that drew the most stares. Some of the men he passed regarded him coldly, while others avoided him entirely; no doubt the sight of male novices provoked disturbing questions. After all, if a man could be Aes Sedai, what was to stop him from taking another man as his warder?
Theon didn’t come to the practice yards to moon over the sweaty, bare-chested swordsmen – though some of the rumors said differently. Neither did he come to look at the women, although they were admittedly much more fun to look at. He studied both genders with rapt fascination; not out of desire, nor for prospects.
Ultimately, he came out because of envy.
By and large, the men and women that walked these grounds were extraordinary. Even the Defenders of the Stone, rigid and powerful as they appeared in their brightly burnished field-plate, could not compare to the warders. They walked with such astounding grace; they fought with such alacrity, gliding through the forms as if by instinct, rather than deliberation. He so dearly wished that he was as swift, and he despaired that he would never be so fleet of foot. Yet here he remained: broken; blocked; useless.
“Seriously, man.” Said Jaryion, creeping up from behind. “You’ve got me worried.”
“Why’s that?” Asked Theon, studying two of the men as if mesmerized. To the casual observer, it would appear that the larger man was bearing down hard on the smaller one, forcing him to give ground and dominating the field. Theon saw differently.
“Because the women are nowhere in sight?” Pressed Jaryion. “Because you’re watching men get sweaty and dance in the sun? Do you fancy men, Theon?”
“Do you?” Asked Theon, grinning as the smaller man turned the tides of battle at the last moment, leaving the larger one face down in the dirt. Afterward, the smaller man helped the larger one to his feet, and the two began talking.
“I’m not the one mooning over them.” Jaryion quipped. “And there is that nasty rumor…”
“Groundless.” Theon proclaimed. “It’s the way they move; the way they fight. I never thought an instrument of death could be so…graceful.”
“Perhaps you should ask one to dance with you at Sunday?” He teased.
“Perhaps.” Replied Theon, suddenly realizing how queer he must have sounded. “But then who would dance with you?”
-*-
The stark white suit should have helped to reflect some of the midmorning sun – and had it been made of something other than stiff wool, that might have been the case. As it was, the heat had worked to considerably dampen his chestnut hair, and beads of sweat trickled down the side of his boyish face. He’d made it into the class by the skin of his teeth, thank the Light.
The boy carried a white lacquered cane and seemed to rely upon it for support, huffing and puffing from the exertion it had taken to go scrabbling up the stairwell. When his eyes – perhaps blue, perhaps green – caught sight of the blackcoat, he quietly shuffled toward some of the other boys, peering about in search of familiar faces. When he caught sight of Medea, he locked eyes with her just long enough to nod in greeting.
“Welcome,” Said the witch with the brown-fringed shawl. “My name is Yasmene din Loran, and I am an Aes Sedai of the Brown Ajah. This is Asha’man Daine, who will be helping me today, and the intimidating looking man lurking around behind me is my brother and Warder, Yarren.”
Strange, he thought. I don’t think he looks intimidating at all…
It was awkward, seeing even a handful of Sea Folk this far inland. If he’d counted Akadias, this Yasmene and her brother would make for a total of three – in Tear, Atha’an Miere hardly ever left their ships! She went on to explain some gibberish about dancing in clouds, but he couldn’t decipher the meaning; quite a few of the girls nodded in comprehension. Small chance that they’d share their understanding.
After the witch was done, the class began by forcing the students to make introductions to each other. He didn’t like it; talking to a crowd made him skittish. Moreover, he didn’t really know any of these other novices, but he had seen their faces in passing dozens of times, and he could recite most of their names by rote. Strange, that a group of people could be so close, yet so distant.
“How about you?” Asked the witch, nodding in his direction; small wonder that he was among the last to be introduced.
“Ah. Well, my name’s Theon.” He stammered. Light, why did they have to put everyone on the spot? He shuffled a little, deliberately trying to stand up straighter as he sputtered out an introduction.
“Erhm, I came from Tear, so…you can imagine what that was like. Or, well, maybe you can’t. They didn’t throw me a party, that’s for sure.”
A couple of people chuckled; Theon flushed. He hadn’t meant that for a joke.
“Anyway, I suppose you could call me a wilder? I mean, I channeled a few times, but I really didn’t know what in Light’s name I was doing. Once, I think I broke up a really nasty storm. I mean, it was all howling wind and hard rain one minute, sunshine and seashells the next. I got pretty sick afterward, all the natural symptoms. And really, that was the most spectacular thing that happened beforehand…”
He shrugged, feeling less like the intelligent scholar and more like the imbecile as he looked around for the next person to speak. What could he say? Nothing made him stammer like a crowd. Except witches, he supposed. And pretty girls.
Especially pretty girls.
In reply to Novice Channeling Lesson: Water[show]/[hide]
Yasmene din Loran was curled up in an overstuffed armchair so old that the stuffing was starting to leak through the seams and the upholstery on the arms had been rubbed almost bare. With a mug of strong tea on the table next to her chair and a book on her lap, she was taking what she felt to be a well deserved rest. She usually spent her mornings supervising novices in the libraries and then after a hurried lunch, teaching Accepted about the Brown Ajah, the Sea Folk culture, her research into Elemental Strengths and other general knowledge the Brown sisters were expected to dole out at the drop of a hat. Being exceptionally weak in the Source didn’t help Yasmene, as she was near the bottom, if not the bottom of the Brown Ajah, and so any task the Browns felt necessary to be carried out yet wouldn’t do on their own were quite often assigned to Yasmene. And recently, to add even more to Yasmene’s work load, an Atha’an Miere novice had arrived and was terribly homesick. Yasmene’s evenings were consumed with helping the girl adjust to her new life and setting the precedence for choosing the Brown Ajah, because the majority of the Atha’an Miere were of the Brown Ajah which wasn’t surprising since they were all encouraged to choose the Brown. Hence Yasmene’s assignment: she had to make sure the new girl conformed to the rules and fit in like a good Atha’an Miere girl who was exiled from the ships and the life she knew.
But today, oh yes, today Yasmene finally got a break. Her usual Accepted were on some sort of day long field trip with a pair of Browns that took them into the city or something, and the young novice had lessons all afternoon and then chores before dinner; this meant Yasmene had the entire afternoon free to do whatever she wished. Smiling to herself, the Brown took a sip of tea and settled more comfortably into her chair, deeply engrossed in her book. Most people wouldn’t have found it particularly interesting, being a history of the Atha’an Miere in the White Tower – a biography of each woman who had held the shawl, but to Yasmene it was fascinating. Unfortunately, as was Yasmene’s luck, she hadn’t been reading but five minutes when there was a knock on her door. Growling under her breath, she put her book aside and rose to answer the door, hoping that whatever it was, it would be fast.
Wishing she had the strength to fling open the door and demand what it was that whoever was on the other side wanted, instead she opened the door and meekly waited for the Aes Sedai to say her piece. She was expecting a fellow Brown sister with a task, or wanting to come in to discuss this or that, or something of the like. As weak as she was, she had no say in the matter, and would have to do whatever was asked of her whether or not she wanted to. What Yasmene was not expecting to see on the other side of the door was a very pale, diminutive man dressed entirely in black. Gleaming in the lamplight was a silver sword and a red enamelled dragon pinned to his collar.
Light! Heart stuttering, Yasmene stumbled back a few steps, eyes fixed on the Asha’man as if he were a poisonous snake. Gasping for breath, Yasmene didn’t hear what the man said though she knew he said something. Feeling dizzy, she closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them he would be gone, but then realized that she couldn’t see the dangerous male channeler, so she had to open them again to watch him and make sure he didn’t do anything crazy. Leaning on the door – it was the only thing holding her up – Yasmene watched the Asha’man unblinking, though to be fair to him, he hadn’t moved since she opened the door.
“Yasmene Aes Sedai?” He said slowly once he was sure she wasn’t going to pass out.
She wasn’t so sure of that herself, but she could pretend for as long as possible. Not trusting her voice, she nodded, still watching the Asha’man warily. So focused she was on the Asha’man that she failed to sense her Warder approaching, though anyone else in the Brown wing and most of the public places in the Tower failed to miss the passage of a very large man with a colour shifting cloak running at a breakneck speed through the halls with his sword unsheathed and held high above his head.
“I’m Asha’man Daine, I’m supposed to help you – LIGHT!” The Asha’man ducked in mid-sentence as a sword sliced through the air where his neck had been only seconds before. Flat on the floor, the Asha’man rolled over and extended his hand towards the swordsman, who froze mid-swing. Blinking, Yasmene realized that the swordsman was her twin brother Yarren, and through the Warder bond, he was furious.
For a long moment the three were frozen like that: Yasmene leaning on the door, staring bug-eyed at her brother, who in turn was staring at the Asha’man lying on the floor, sword held high in the air, held in place, seemingly, by the Air itself. The Asha’man was watching Yarren, though there was no fear on his face.
Finally shaking off the shock, Yasmene turned to her brother, “Yarren, no, it isn’t what you think! This Asha’man knocked on the door and I was so surprised at seeing him...” She couldn’t finish her sentence, unable to utter aloud her one weakness to the source of the weakness, lying on the floor before her. Her friends knew how she felt about male channelers, and many of the other Browns suspected, but only Yarren knew how truly terrified she was of them.
Turning back to the Asha’man and summoning a calm she didn’t feel, Yasmene extended a hand to Daine, pulling him to his feet. “If you let him go, I promise he won’t hurt you. You startled me, is all.”
Daine eyed her suspiciously, obviously doubting the truth in her words, or worse, her sanity, but he finally nodded and released the weaves. Yasmene had already reinforced that promise with pressure on the Warder bond, so when Yarren was able to move again, he merely sheathed his sword, and moved into the room, firmly closing the door behind him and effectively shutting out the questioning eyes that had gathered since Yarren made his appearance.
Removing his fancloth and hanging it on a peg beside the door, Yarren gestured for the Asha’man to take a seat and then grasped his sister by the elbow, steering her towards her seat and pressing the mug of tea into her hands.
“Now Asha’man, what is it you came to talk to my sister about?” To Yarren’s credit, his voice was calm, though Yasmene felt through the bond he was a roiling bundle of emotions, worry and pain for his sister mixed with anger and frustration at the Asha’man, and embarrassment piled on top of that. Yasmene made a mental note to ask her brother what that was about, because she didn’t sense it was embarrassment for her and her fear.
“I merely came to tell her that the Mistress of Novices has requested we combine our channelling classes on Water since both are quite small. We’re to be teaching tomorrow and so we should discuss how we want to teach, and discuss ideas.”
“I see,” Yarren said slowly. As though coming to a decision, he rose abruptly and moved into the small kitchen area, reappearing moments later with a tray containing a teapot, honey, cream and two cups and sauces. Handing one cup to Daine and keeping one to himself, he held the teapot out to his sister, who channelled to heat it without thinking. Finally, once the tea had been served, Yarren looked from Daine to his sister and back again. “Very well, discuss.”
~*~
Yasmene arrived to the classroom where the lesson was to take place rather early. She was dressed in full Atha’an Miere garb, as she felt appropriate, complete with chain linking hoops in both nostril and ear. She hadn’t risen very high in rank, only two medallions, but she was still proud of them. Her silk blouse was a vibrant blue and her linen pants a deep brown. She was barefoot, as she chose to be wherever possible.
“Yasmene?”
The Aes Sedai whirled around, relaxing when she saw it was her brother in the doorway and not Daine.
“I thought you might feel better if I were here. I might help keep some novices in check as well,” he told his sister with a grin.
“Thank you,” Yasmene replied, hugging Yarren. She didn’t know what she would have done if she had come to the Tower without him.
This time when the door opened, Yasmene tensed, but didn’t go into a full blown panic when Daine entered the room. For the first time, Yasmene looked at him as a man, not an Asha’man, and was hard pressed not to giggle at the thought of the pair of them teaching. Yasmene was tall, very tall for a woman – as tall as her tall brother, in fact – and slender. Her skin was very dark, her straight black hair cut very short so that it stood up in spikes. Her square face was rather masculine, and when seen standing beside her brother, who looked almost identical to her, they could pass for brothers. She had brought her brown fringed shawl with her today though, so even from behind she wouldn’t be mistaken for a man.
Daine, on the other hand, was short, a head shorter than Yasmene and Yarren, and very fair. His shoulder length hair was almost white, his eyes a washed out blue, and his skin very pale. His features were very delicate. Standing side by side, the Asha’man and Aes Sedai would provide a very amusing picture.
Maybe Yarren is right, and this will help me get over my fear, she thought as she greeted Daine. He smiled in return and moved to stand beside her while they waited for the novices to arrive. Yarren moved to stand behind Yasmene, fancloth swirling around him. Yasmene fought to keep her face smooth and not laugh at her brother, who would do his best to intimidate the novices but probably not succeed. He just didn’t have an intimidating air about him. Unless he was almost slicing off Asha’man heads.
“Welcome,” Yasmene said to the gaggle of novices grouped at the desks in front of her. Tattooed hands clasped in front of her, she continued, striving for the Aes Sedai calm she rarely lost. “My name is Yasmene din Loran and I am an Aes Sedai of the Brown Ajah. This is Asha’man Daine, who will be helping me today, and the intimidating looking man lurking around behind me is my brother and Warder, Yarren. Though I am not very strong in the One Power, Water is my strongest element and tied to my Talents, Cloud Dancing and Wave Dancing. Now we would like you to introduce yourselves giving your name, where you are from, and what experience, if any, you have with Water. If you are a Wilder, let us know what you’ve done with Water, if anything, before you came to the White Tower. Lastly, if you have any questions, now is the time to ask.” Yasmene let her eyes rove across the group of novices, finally pointing to a young man on the far right side of the classroom. “Let’s start with you.”
OOC: welcome everyone to Water! You know the drill, 500 word minimum, lesson is open to anyone who has completed embracing/seizing and please don’t mind Yasmene, she’s a little high strung. Try to fit a physical description into the post please so that a) I don’t have to scurry around finding bios, and b) it’s good practice. Email me if you have any questions.
